


It Was Almost What I Wanted

by Liz2010



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Derek Hale is Good at Feelings, It Gets Worse Before It Gets Better, M/M, Oral Sex, Panic Attacks, Past Child Abuse, Self-Harm, Self-Hatred
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-17
Updated: 2019-03-17
Packaged: 2019-11-19 10:41:28
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,022
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18134693
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Liz2010/pseuds/Liz2010
Summary: "Stiles didn’t know what to say. It was unthinkable, him, the king of sarcasm and snark, being speechless, but he was too tired and too worn out to think of a single damn word."Stiles gets what he wants. But not really.





	It Was Almost What I Wanted

**Author's Note:**

> Mind the tags please. This fic contains possible triggers. If you're worried, read the notes at the end. 
> 
> As always, this I own nothing and unbeta read.

Stiles didn’t know what to say. It was unthinkable, him, the king of sarcasm and snark, being speechless, but he was too tired and too worn out to think of a single damn word.

He had come from the longest night imaginable stopping a murderous lizard monster and now here was Derek Hale, in his dark bedroom, leaning again the wall, expression tight and unreadable. 

This wasn’t the first time Stiles had found the wolf in his bedroom. Derek had showed up here many times before, and each time Stiles felt the same shock of lust, followed by self-hate for thinking like that. 

Because Derek didn’t come for fun. Derek didn’t do that kind of fun, and certainly not with Stiles. He came because he wanted something, generally demanding that Stiles research, something, everything. Because that was what Stiles did. And he was good at it. 

But not tonight. 

Tonight, Derek was here just standing. He wasn’t glaring, wasn’t saying anything, just standing there, looking almost sad. 

Stiles pressed down the flutter of arousal that always came up every time he saw Derek so close to his bed before it could even start. He was too tired to deal with the self-deprecating guilt that came up every time he glanced at the man’s fabulous ass. Plus, he knew that wolf could smell it or something. He always gave him a weird look when it happened. 

Stiles tossed off his jacket and sat down on the bed, not bothering to turn on the light. If his dad was home, he might have called for him to chase out the creeper, but the Sheriff was out taking care of the many problems that had happened tonight, not at home with his son.

“Not tonight Derek,” he said finally as he took off his shoes. “Text me whatever it is you need me to find out and I’ll figure it out tomorrow.”

Stiles winched as he straitened back up. His ribs burned from Gerard’s punches and driving his jeep through a wall didn’t help. And now Jackson was a werewolf. Yay, there was another person who was a dick that was stronger than him. Plus, now Jackson and Lydia were back together. 

Tonight sucked.

He ached all over.

Derek didn’t leave. He walked closer to the bed and sat just a little too close to for comfort. Stiles felt that familiar flutter and bit his cheek.

The older man didn’t seem to notice as stared at his clasped hands, his face looking pained. 

Stiles was happy enough to just sit and let the other man look constipated. He was 100% done with everything. He leaned back against the headboard and let the uncomfortable silence continue. 

“I was scared tonight.”

Stiles’ eyes jerked open. He didn’t even realize he had been drifting off till Derek’s voice woke him. He blinked hard and tried to focus his bleary eyes on the wolf. 

“Yeah, Jackson on his own I’m sure you could have handled but add in Gerard. He’s one scary motherfucker.” Stiles shrugged. “It turned out OK. I guess.”

Derek shook his head, his red eyes glowing faintly in the darkness. “No, I was scared for you. You came in out of nowhere smelling like panic then crashed that piece of shit you call a car. I was scared you were hurt. Hurt bad. You smelled like pain. I was scared you were even there.” 

“Sorry?” 

Stiles wasn’t quite sure what he was supposed to say here. He knew Derek cared about him, but it seemed to be in the same way you might care about a stray cat. You might feed it and let it hang out, but you don’t really notice if it dies until the food stops disappearing.

Sure, they had a couple of nice moments the last few weeks, primary that Derek had stopped slamming him into various hard surfaces. 

But he had also looked almost happy when Stiles had grabbed an extra hamburger on Fast Food Friday and brought it by the loft on a whim. The alpha had even smiled for a second before glowering at the way Stiles was scarfing down his own food. 

In fact, Fast Food Friday had become a thing for the two of them. His dad had been busier than ever, Scott too, so instead of just eating and leaving, he occasionally hung out at the loft. Sometimes Derek ignored him while the wolf read some giant book in the corner and Stiles scrolled through his phone. Other times they watched a movie on Stiles’ laptop. It was nice in an awkward sort of way. 

Since then, Derek became slightly thoughtful in his treatment of Stiles. His frown wasn’t so harsh when he looked at Stiles. He stopped Isaac from being a dick. He growled at Scott when he shoved Stiles a little too hard at training. He even had started to bring over food when he climbed through Stiles window at ass’o’clock in the morning needing something. Stiles’ favorites too, cinnamon caramel coffee and glazed donuts or curry fries. 

So maybe Stiles wasn’t exactly a stray cat. But he wasn’t one of Derek’s puppies either. No matter what he was to Derek, it didn’t explain that haunted look in his eye right now.

Stiles signed and pulled Derek up to the headboard to join him, throwing one arm over the older man’s shoulder, hissing when it aggravated his bruised ribs. 

Derek rolled his eyes, looking a bit more like the sourwolf they all knew and loved. 

“If you’re hurting, all you have to do is tell me.” Derek grabbed Stiles’ hand. 

Stiles started.

For all his tactility, he wasn’t really a hand holder. It was something his mother and father had done, walking hand and hand down the street. When he saw anyone else doing it now that she had passed, it just twisted something in his gut. 

He opened his mouth to tell Derek to get the hell off, when black lines began to flow up the wolf’s arm and the pain that had been chasing him all night was just gone. 

“Ohhhh” he moaned instead, not caring that it sounded like soft core porn. “Don’t you dare stop.”

Derek smirked and continued until the lines ran gray then stopped altogether. Stiles didn’t pull his hand out, though. With the pain gone, it was nice, warm and comfortable here snuggled up safe in bed. He didn’t remember the last time he had felt like this.

Derek looked calmer as well, his eyes a gorgeous hazel instead of red and brows relaxed instead of their constant furrow. He looked younger, somehow, now that the weight of the world wasn’t currently on his shoulders. 

He was beautiful and Stiles couldn’t help by reach over and trace a finger along that chiseled jaw. 

It wasn’t clear who moved in first. All Stiles knew was that one moment they were looking into each other’s eyes, the next they were kissing.

Stiles had kissed people before. He kissed a girl named Stacey on the swing set when he was five. He kissed Scott one time when they were drunk, though they both pretended they didn’t remember it the next day. But the only one that really counted was Molly. It had been at a party last year. It had been wet and messy, and although Stiles would never admit it to Scott, he didn’t really enjoy it that much. 

But this, this was nothing like that. 

Derek kissed like an expert, all control and firmness. He held Stiles head carefully, his fingernails scratching against the nape of his neck, making him shiver. 

He loved it. 

Derek’s lips were firm, warm, and just different than a girl’s. His tongue darted out and traced Stiles lips. Stiles didn’t hesitate to open his mouth. He tasted like spearmint and dear God, it felt good. 

He moaned into Derek’s mouth. The wolf tensed up before relaxing and made a noise deep in his chest that send a jolt all the way down to Stiles’ dick. 

Derek effortlessly pulled Stiles onto his lap, hands going under his ass for leverage, letting the teen straddle his legs, never breaking off the kissing that was quickly going from intense to desperate getting wetter and louder with each passing moment. 

Stiles was hard, as hard as he had ever been. He could feel himself leaking into his boxers, making a sticky mess, but he didn’t care. He reached down to adjust himself, to make himself a little more comfortable. He let his hand linger over Derek’s crotch, feeling equal stiffness there and holy shit, he was making Derek Hale hard. 

“Oh my God” he whined, breaking off the kiss to take a panting breathe.

Derek growled deep in his throat, eyes dilated, and face flushed. Stiles dick twitched. 

“Yes, not stopping, no. More kissing.” Stiles didn’t care what he said he just needed that tongue back in his mouth.

“Shut up Stiles.” Derek said impatiently as he rolled his hips. The friction was just right, and he needed more. 

He needed more. 

Stiles pulled himself even closer and sealed his lips back over the wolf’s as he began to grind in earnest against the older man. Derek responded in kind, hands roaming all over his back pulling him in tighter and tighter. 

This couldn’t be happening. Derek couldn’t be in his bedroom kissing him and grinding on him. The crash must have killed him because this was too good to be true. 

Derek broke away from his lips to lick a strip up Stiles throat and ended it with a gentle bite right behind his ear. The noise that broke out of Stiles was downright pornographic as his whole body shuttered. 

Dear God, he wasn’t going to last like this, rutting himself against the hottest man he had ever seen while being kissed and licked and oh, oh, oh.

Then, because Stiles really was messed up deep down in where it really mattered, his fucked-up brain short circled.

Instead of focusing on this wonderful, hot as hell moment he had going on and the hands that were cupping his ass and the hips that were thrusting against his own, his treacherous brain reminded him that he was going to hell. 

It started when with his mom.

When his mother had gotten sick, when she started to lose her mind, she had changed.

Before, she had been kind and accepting, telling Stiles he could be whoever he needed to be. She laughed then complied when Stiles demanded she paint his nails to match her own, because he wanted to be pretty too. She said it was great when Stiles came home from kindergarten excited because Danny said he would be his boyfriend since Lydia refused to be, even though he promised to carry her backpack. Of course, it never went past hand holding, but that wasn’t the point. The point was however Stiles wanted to be and whoever he wanted to like boys, girls, whatever, his mother didn’t care.

Then she got sick. She forgot things and it was awful, but what was worse was the way she filled in the gaps with something else. 

She hyper-focused on religion, on being pure, and on raising her son a “man”. She dragged the family to church every Sunday, well Stiles mostly because John always had to work, and made him listen, quizzing him on what he learned, slapping him when he got it wrong. 

Because maybe some churches were kind and welcoming, but the one she found was cruel and full of hate.

When Stiles came home crying because Danny didn’t want to hold hands anymore, she smacked his hand until it hurt, saying he should never hold a man’s hand. She told him it was a sin for him to wear make-up or nail polish. 

She hissed as same sex couples they saw out in the town and went to rallies against gay rights. 

It was awful and confusing, especially since Stiles’ wasn’t sure that he didn’t like boys as well as girls. But his mom didn’t want him to, so he pushed down that part of himself and tried to make this new mom happy.

Which mostly worked. For a while. 

The older Stiles got, the more extreme she got. And the more he began to have feelings. Feelings that made him wake up hard, sticky and ashamed. 

It wasn’t that hard to get through the parental blocks on his computer. He didn’t go crazy and search for some fantasy. He just wanted to see it, to know what sex was like, if it was like the kids at school said. 

He had been so focused watching the couple he didn’t hear his mother come in. He didn’t look up until his mother smacked his face hard enough to leave a bruise that he would later have to lie to his dad about. 

“What the fuck do you think your doing?” she screamed as he held his face, trying not to cry. 

“Is this what you want? To watch this shit? You think this is what God wants? What I want?” she grabbed him and turned him away from her, emphasizing each question with a strike across his back. 

“No” he said though his tears that were coming in earnest now. “I’m sorry, I just wanted to know.”

She went dangerously still, then jerked his head back grabbed his chin hard, pulling it to her until their faces were nearly touching. 

“Know? All you need to know is that sex is dirty and disgusting. I swear to you that if you do it before marriage, you will burn in hell. And it will be what you deserve.”

She let go and Stiles fell in a heap on the floor, back on fire and feeling sick to his stomach.

She grabbed the laptop and threw it at the wall where it shattered, plastic bits flying everywhere.

“Clean up this mess and pray for forgiveness you piece of shit.”

Stiles knew that it wasn’t really his mother who felt that way. It was just her disease. His real mother love him. It didn't help him feel any better.

Once she died, he felt just a bit of relief, knowing she wouldn’t be there to judge him anymore. 

And his dad didn’t mind who he liked or what he did. It should have been easy to get on with his life and his relationships. But his mom’s voice echoed in his head every time he watched a boy’s ass as he walked by or jerked off to the image of a girl’s mouth hot around his dick. It made him feel filthy every time. 

And it made his feelings for Derek even more complicated. It was the reason any attraction was mixed with hate.

Because this, Derek’s tongue in his mouth and hands on his ass, this was amazing. But it also made his stomach twist.

Something must have showed or smelled, because Derek pulled back, eyes darting all over the teen’s face, searching for something.

“Are you alright?” Derek asked.

He was so far from alright it wasn’t funny. Every part of himself was fucked up.

“Yeah.” 

Derek frowned. “I can tell when you lie.”

Stiles grabbed crassly at Derek’s dick through his jeans. “Derek, I want this.”

His heart must have stayed steady, because Derek growled once again and grabbed the back of Stiles head pulling him in tighter than before. 

Derek kissed like Stiles was the only thing on earth he wanted, the only thing on earth he needed, but Stiles wanted more. 

“More.” He demanded when Derek broke away to grab a gasp of air.

Derek’s eyes glowed red for half a second before fading back to normal, before he obeyed. With a rough movement, he ripped off Stiles’ shirt so fast he heard seams rip.

Stiles never really liked that shirt anyway. 

Derek was focused on his chest with the same intensity he kissed his lips with. The wolf’s hands burned as they traced the curves of Stiles stomach, playing with the line of hair there. His tongue skimmed over the younger man’s sensitive nipples as he whined and moaned, filthy words and begging flowing out of him quickly and surely. 

“Oh yes, please, no don’t stop, yes right there oh, oh, oh fuck, oh God.”

This was perfect. This was everything he wanted, and he should stop now, while he still could. Before it was too late. But he instead of stop, his mouth kept begging for more, for Derek to touch him, to make his feel it, to give him everything.

Stiles wasn’t going to last like this. 

“Derek, I’m going to” he bit his lip and tensed, trying to stop the white-hot heat burning in his stomach. 

Derek stopped suddenly and Stiles panted, fists clinching the sheets trying to reign himself back in. The alpha braced him, then shifted positions so that Stiles was now flat on his back while he straddled him. 

“Not yet.” Derek said, voice deep and rough as his hands explored ever downward. 

“Oh my God you are amazing. You’re literally the best at this, ever. I need you to, oh God, Oh God!”

Derek pulled down Stiles’ pants and boxers with no fanfare. 

“Please, please, oh yes, please.” Stiles moaned as Derek breathed over his hard cock tracing it with just the tip of his fingers, mouth millimeters from it, just so close, so damn close. 

Derek stopped and looked at Stiles who was breathless and flushed, back arching from shear want. 

“You’re perfect.” He said with a small smile then took the tip of the younger man’s cock and began to suck.

Stiles ran out of words. An endless wail was all the came from his desperate mouth as Derek ran his tongue over the tip in small circles as he moved his hand up and down the shaft, in soft jerks that pulled Stiles closer and closer. This was so much better than anything he had ever done by himself, better than anything he had ever watched on his computer with rapt attention.

His hips jerked against Derek, wanting more, needing more but hating it all the same. He was close, he was so fucking close. Tears leaked out of his eyes as he let out a hopeless sob. 

Derek tightened his mouth until the suction was all Stiles could feel. His hand seared as it cradled Stiles balls, and he felt like he was going to break into a million pieces. Stiles’ skin was on fire and he couldn’t think, he couldn’t breathe. All he could feel was heat, wet, and dread pooling in his stomach of what was about to happen. 

Stiles came with a shout, hips pushing forward, thrusting his dick deeper into Derek’s mouth. Derek let him, his sucks becoming slower and kinder as they rode out the orgasm together. 

Stiles couldn’t feel his body, and at the same time, it was far too heavy. He flinched as Derek pulled off his cock with a pop, apparently having swallowed the mess. Dimly he thought he should offer some similar activity to the werewolf, it was only polite, but he instead he watched as Derek rose up and pulled out his own dick and begin to frantically palm at it, making small grunts as he went. 

Derek didn’t last long before he came, streaking Stiles bare chest before collapsing beside him. 

“That was hot” Stiles said as Derek idly traced through the mess, painting the young man’s stomach with it as it cooled. Stiles shivered slightly as he tried to pull the tangled blanket from their legs and over himself.

Derek didn’t say anything, just kissed lightly him before rolling off the bed and fastening his jeans and walking out of the room, closing the door behind him.

Stiles pulled himself up against the headboard, watching him leave. He didn’t figure Derek as a cuddler, but damn, he sure was in a hurry to get out of here.

Maybe it wasn’t that good for him. Maybe he didn’t want to stay. Maybe he thought this was a mistake. The terrible thoughts attacked Stiles mercilessly as he began to feel so fucking empty, the feeling even worse having just felt so full of happiness moments before. 

He wasn’t going to cry. He wasn’t. There was no reason to cry. He has just had sex with a hot ass man who’s cum was currently drying on his stomach. It has been awesome and everything he had wanted the first time he had seen Derek’s brooding face. It didn't matter that Derek had left.

A sob broke out of him. He had just had sex. With a man. He had done what he had promised him mother he would never do.

Instantly his heart was pounding, and pure fear flooded him until that was all he could feel, all he could think about. His sobs turned into gasps and he grabbed his head, ripping at the short hair there and he curled into himself. 

He was going to hell, he was going to hell, he was going to hell. 

He knew he was shaking uncontrollably. He could feel the goosebumps on his arms as his body chilled. He held out his hands and watched them tremble, but it felt like they belonged to someone else.

All he couldn’t think was that it didn’t matter, it didn’t matter because he was already damned. 

Derek burst in the room, the damp rag in his hand hitting the ground with a wet splat. His eyes were red as they stared into the darkness, no double looking for the cause of Stiles sudden spike in heart rate. 

Finding nothing, he was at the bed in an instant. He grabbed Stiles’ shoulders with both hands and gave him a firm shake.

“Stiles.” He demanded. “Stiles, what’s wrong?”

His hands were too tight, and Stiles felt like he was suffocating. He flailed against the wolf, his nails ripping at the hands and pushing on the other man’s chest until he finally let go. 

It was better, not being touched, but he still felt nothing but fear so strong he gagged on it. 

Every breathe was a frantic wheeze as he pushed the air in and out far too fast. He curled back on himself trying to get away.

“Please. Please tell me what’s wrong. Are you hurt? Do I need to call your dad?” Derek was still there, hovering right in his view. His eyebrows were drawn and his mouth a line so tight it might snap. 

Stiles frantically shook his head. The last thing he needed was his dad here. 

Stiles let his eyes fall from the wolf’s face and down to the bed as he began to rock back and forth. The wolf’s hands were on the bedding now, claws flicking in and out. He was going to ruin the sheets and there was no way to explain claw marks in his bedding to his dad. 

He didn’t care. 

He rocked and gasped, not calming down, not feeling better. He was going to die. This was going to kill him. 

“Stiles.”

It sounded more like a sob than a word. It was enough for lift his head back to Derek’s worried eyes and to try to explain why he was going to die on this bed tonight. 

“I fucked up Derek. I fucked it all up.” 

Derek looked even more confused as Stiles let out a hopeless wail and grabbed at his hair again while he cried. 

He was going to hell. 

He would be punished for eternity. 

He would never see him mom again. 

“Stop it.” It was a command, an alpha command, complete with an eye flash, but he couldn’t stop even if he wanted to. He was too far gone. 

Scott had asked him once, after he witness a breakdown like this after his mother died, what it was like. Stiles tried his best to explain, but Scott never really got it, not all of it. 

Scott had asthma. It wasn’t that differently from anxiety. He understood the wheezing and the racing heart, even the shaking and overwhelming fear that came with an attack. 

What he didn’t understand, what no one understood was that after a certain point in each attack, if he didn’t stop it, he felt absolutely certainly that it was the end. And if this was the end, there was no point of staying grounded. He would drift away until he didn’t feel himself anymore. That is when things got bad. 

It didn’t happen very often. Stiles’ doctor said it was a type of dissociating and was completely normal for someone with an anxiety disorder and emotional trauma. He prescribed pills that Stiles never took.

It didn’t make it any less terrifying. 

Stiles felt himself shift from panicking to just gone. He was still awake, still conscious, but he had no control, no choice in what his body was doing. He was trapped, watching his body lose control. 

His watched himself rock frantically back and forth. He knew was going to die, knew this was going to kill him. 

He screamed suddenly and threw his head back against the headboard with a crack. Derek flinched then snarled. He grabbed Stiles’ wrists to keep him still. 

Stiles screamed even louder, so hard he thought he might split in two. He fought against the hands that held him. It didn’t hurt. Not even when he felt something in his wrist crack. 

“Let me go, let me go, let me go, let me go!” he shrieked over and over until Derek finally did. 

Stiles immediately slammed his head back into the headboard, even harder this time, trying to feel something, trying to bring himself back or punish himself he didn’t know. Over and over again he did it, each time feeling less effective, making him try to hit harder. 

He didn’t stop screaming. He just ran out of air. He lay slumped over, muscles tight as strings, too breathless to move, making pathetic, helpless little noises with snot running down his face. 

He was empty. He was done. 

He let himself drift into the nothingness waiting on him.

 

\----

 

When he started to come back, he was warm. He was never warm during a panic attack or even in the days after. It was always cold and bare, even when his father was there to comfort him. 

Moment by moment, he came back to himself, his mind working overtime to catch up. 

He was warm because somehow, sometime, Derek had shifted until he was between the headboard and Stiles. The older man’s hands were cushioning against his head, even though Stiles had stopped trying to brain himself, stroking his hair so damn gently like Stiles was worth something. 

“You’re alight. You’re going to be alright.” Derek was whispering in his ear like a lullaby over and over again. His voice was worn and tired and Stiles wondered how long he had been muttering to an unresponsive body. 

Stiles went complete limp as what was left of the fight left him. Derek let out a sob and clutched him tighter to his chest. 

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. Please be alright. Please be okay.” he murmured.

“I’m fine.”

It came out a whisper as well. Stiles hiccuped then winced. His throat was destroyed from all the screaming.

Derek didn’t answer, just let go over his head and wrapped his large arms around Stiles in a tight hug. 

“What the hell was that?” he asked when Stiles finally stopped hiccuping.

“Panic attack. A bad one.”

Derek growled softly in the back of his throat, but Stiles knew him well enough to know it wasn’t in anger. It was frustration. 

“Why?”

Stiles shrugged. “Cause I had sex and now I’m going to hell.”

Derek went complete rigid behind him. Gently, he lifted Stile’s face until they were looking eye to eye. 

“Stiles, you know that isn’t true.”

Stiles just shrugged again, too tired to fight. If that is what Derek though, that was fine. Stiles knew the truth. 

He laid there wrapped up in warm arms as the minuets ticked by. He still felt worryingly numb. He really should call his dad. He needed his emergency medication at the very least, but it was too far away locked in medicine cabinet. 

He didn’t move. 

Neither did Derek. Stiles didn’t think the wolf had fallen asleep even though he wasn’t talking. His breathing didn’t sound like he had. 

It was nearly three am when the front door unlocked. His dad was finally home. It made Stiles feel marginally better to know that while he was home shaming him mother’s memory, his dad wasn’t out getting killed. 

“You should go” he whispered, the words feeling too loud in the dark room.

“I’m not leaving you alone like this.”

“My dad’s home. I’m fine now.” 

He knew Derek would have heard the Sheriff come in. He didn’t get the wolf’s reluctance to leave. He needed to leave. 

“Unless you want to get shot. Cause he always checks in on me. And a former murder suspect in his kid’s be is going to turn out messy.”

Derek sighed and climbed out of bed, shifting Stiles effortlessly as he did so that the teen was laying comfortably on the pillows. He pulled his boots back on. Stiles didn’t even know when they had come off. He shivered as the body heat left behind faded and he left himself drift slightly away as Derek moved about the room silently. 

He blinked and Derek was crouched down so he was directly in Stiles line of sight, a hand caressing the still bruised check that Gerard had punched so recently. 

“I put my number in your phone. I’ll talk to you tomorrow.”

Stiles nodded. He watched the wolf leave out the window only moments before his door opened. 

Stiles didn’t pretend to be asleep. He watched his dad looked at him for a long moment before running a hand over his tired and lined face. His father shut the door with a soft click.  
\------  
Stiles never really slept. He stayed in that dozing state where he wasn’t asleep, but he couldn’t move. It was exhausting and he felt worse when he woke than before Derek had left. 

He pulled himself out of bed and to the bathroom. He relieved himself and grabbed a cloth to wipe the dried cum of himself before glancing in the mirror. 

He looked awful. 

His eyes had dark marks underneath them and his face was sickly pale. The bruise on his check was turning colors and his lip had split back open sometime turning the night. Dried blood covered his chin and he wiped that off as well. There was a goose egg on the back of his head where he had slammed it against the headboard. Luckily it was covered by his hair so no one would see it. His chest was bruised deeply in a line where the seat belt had caught him. His neck was sore from the impact. His wrists had hand print shaped bruises from where Derek had grabbed them to try to keep him from bashing his head in and the left one was swollen and tender. 

He was mess, but it was Saturday and he could swallow a couple Tylenol and go back to bed before his dad saw. It was doubtful the Sheriff would have the day off. 

It was a good plan, but it didn’t work out.

Stiles twisted his head and saw the hickey Derek had sucked behind his ear. The evens of last night hit him all at once again and he ended up hunched over the toilet gagging and retching. 

His dad came barging in still dressed in sweatpants at the sound of his son being sick. He took one look at his kid and paled before crouching down, hands running over his bare chest, cataloging each injury in the professional way of a cop. 

“Oh my God son, what happened?” 

Stiles laid his head on the nasty toilet, too tired to fight already. 

“I told you I got beat up?” 

“This one is new. And its bad Stiles.” John frowned as his hands traced the lines of the seat belt. Stiles hissed as his dad pressed too hard and his father’s face tightened. 

The truth was on his lips. He would feel so much better if he could just repent and tell the truth. 

“I hit a deer last night.”

John signed. Stiles hated that sound. “You should have called me. You should have called 911.”

“You were busy. Everyone was busy. The deer ran off and the jeep made it home. You can fill out a report or whatever and I’ll call insurance later.”

Stiles flushed and pulled the lid closed. He dragged himself to his feet using the towel rack with the intention of going back to his bedroom. He only made in a step before he swayed, and his father had to catch him.

“Easy son” His father sat him on the now closed toilet, waiting for a second with his hand on the teen’s pulse point to make sure Stiles wasn’t about to face plant before leaving the room. 

Stiles didn’t have time to wonder where he had gone. John came back quickly dressed in a t-shirt and jeans with a zip up hoodie and shoes for his kid. He had it zipped around Stiles before the teen realized it. 

“What are you doing?” Stiles meant for it to sound sarcastic and biting, but it came out slow and slurred. 

“We’re going to the hospital.” His father bent down and slipped Stiles’ tennis shoes on his feet. 

“Why?” 

Stiles was fine. Sore and bruised but fine.

“You’re not acting right. I think you’re in shock. We’re going to get you checked out.”  
\----  
Stiles let his father led him to the police cruiser and even buckle him in the front. He was too numb to fight. His dad kept shooting him worried glances the longer Stiles was quiet and compliant. Stiles wanted to say something funny and break them both out of it, but he couldn’t think of anything. He laid against the cool glass and watched the world go by.

He thought he saw a flash of a black leather jacket disappearing from the backyard as they pulled away. He wondered if Derek had spent the night just outside his window.

Melissa wasn’t in for her shift yet and John’s plain clothes meant that no one in the ER recognized him and they had to wait like normal people. Which meant they had to wait for the guy with chest pains, the girl throwing up so much it was making Stiles’ stomach hurt in sympathy, a kid with a shard of glass through his hand, and a mother with a baby running a fever all to go first. 

Waiting didn’t particularly bother Stiles. He didn’t care if he ever saw a doctor, but it seemed to annoy John. He complained about the pages of paperwork he had to fill out. He flipped through the month-old magazines, squirmed and checked his phone every five minutes. Stiles wanted to make a smart-ass comment about how his dad was acting exactly how Stiles normally would, but the words wouldn’t come out. 

Instead, Stiles just stared at the tile floor, lost in his own guilt over everything that had happened. 

He clutched his now swollen wrist to himself and wished he had never gotten out of bed. Maybe then his dad wouldn’t have seen and there wouldn’t even be here. He wished he had his phone.

He wondered if Derek had texted. 

It was nearly two hours before an orderly lead them to an examination room. Stiles gingerly sat down on the bed then leaned back on it while he dad paced, complaining to his son about the low quality of service. 

A young nurse came in before the vein that was throbbing in John’s forehead burst. She was tall and had a no-nonsense face. Stiles didn’t recognize her from his many trips to the hospital, both for medical attention and to visit Melissa with Scott. 

“My name is Susan and I’ll be your nurse this afternoon.” she said, “What brings you in today?”

Stiles looked at the woman suspiciously. All that paperwork they had filled out was apparently for nothing. Finally, he held out his swollen and bruised wrist. “My arm hurts.” 

John snorted then took over. “Some kids jumped him the other day, roughed him up pretty good. Then, last night he managed to hit a deer and mess himself up even worse. Besides the wrist which I’m pretty sure is broken, he has some bad bruising on his side and chest. Maybe a concussion. He isn’t acting right. I was worried it was shock.”

The nurse took his vitals while asking for his height and weight, all which John answered without hesitation. Stiles stayed quiet and stared at the wall.

The nurse smiled kindly as she gently looked at his damaged wrist, just barely touching it as she went. This she glanced at the bruises on his other arm and the smile fell. 

“Can I take off your shirt?”

John didn’t give Stiles a chance to answer or the woman to do her job before he was there unzipping the hoodie. Stiles shivered as she traced the bruising there as well. He hissed when she poked at his sore ribs and she backed away. 

“How bad do these hurt? Scale of one to ten.”

Stiles thought before answering. He had had so much worse, like that compound fracture from when Scott had fallen on top of him in middle school. This was nothing really.

“Two. Three if I move to quick or something.”

She hummed in understanding and sat down at the computer to begin entering his data. 

“Shouldn’t you be doing something?” John was getting angry now, his voice louder than it would normally be. “He’s in shock. This isn’t normal.” 

He gestured at Stiles laying lethargically on the bed before going to run a hand over his kid’s head. Stiles flinched as his dad accidentally hit the bump hidden by his hair.

Susan looked at the two of them for a long moment.

“Actually, I think his sugars might be a little low. I bet you guys were waiting here a long time. We’ve been pretty busy today. Would you like to run down to the nurses’ station and get Stiles some juice? It’s just down the hall and to the left.”

“I know where it is.” John left in a huff, but not before he squeezed Stiles shoulder comfortingly. 

The nurse didn’t go back to her computer. She just watched with a shrewd look in her eyes Stiles until he shifted uncomfortably on the bed.

“So, are you new here? I haven’t seen you around?” he asked finally, more to fill the silence than because he cared.

“I’ve been here a few months. I moved from Lancaster actually. Better pay and great benefits.” She replied, smiling again teasing him a little. “Do you come here often?”

“Sometimes.” Stiles shrugged. “More than I probably should. I think it annoys my dad that I’m so familiar with everyone but what can I say, I like people. I’m a people person.” He winked at her without much energy behind it and gave a thumbs up with his right hand before letting it drop weakly on the bed. 

“I’m sure you are.” Susan’s smile seemed a little forced now. “Your dad said you got beat up the other day. Can you tell me what happened?”

Stiles face paled as the images of Gerard hitting him again and again flew into his mind. 

“Why does it matter?”

“It can be helpful with diagnosis to walk through the event.”

“I don’t want to talk about it.”

“Alright. How about the car crash? Can we talk about that?”

Stiles didn’t like the way the nurse was looking at him.

“I hit a deer and got some bruises. Can we slap a cast on my wrist and get me the hell out of here?”

Susan nodded, walking over to the cabinet and getting out a bottle of pills. “Sure thing. I’ll let the doctor know you’re ready. Let’s get some pain medication into you. No sense in being in pain while you wait. You haven’t taken anything else today yet have you? At home with your dad?”

Stiles shook his head. They hadn’t even thought of it in the rush to get here. He took the pills with the water she gave him and curled up to let it take effect. 

His dad still wasn’t back when the doctor came in and did a quick exam without asking any questions at all before sending him off for X-rays. Stiles wanted to ask for his dad but whatever pills they gave him made him stupid and slow and by the time he asked, he was already alone in the X-ray room.

They took a bunch of them. Both arms, his neck and head, and his chest. He was shivering uncontrollably by the time it was over and on the verge of yet another panic attack. 

“Get my dad” He begged the orderly as he tried to get off the table and leave but just managed to fall on his ass. “Please. I need my dad.”

Instead he got a shot of something that made him feel tired and he drifted back off as soon as they wheeled him back to the ER.  
\------  
“Stiles. Stiles. Sweetie can you wake up?” 

It was a reassuring voice, but not the one he wanted to hear right how and not saying what he wanted to hear. He just wanted to hear his father say they were going home. 

Stiles pulled himself up to a sitting position on the bed, frowning when he noticed that he had been changed into a hospital gown at some point and a splint put on his wrist. He must have been out of it.

“Melissa? What are you doing here? They said you weren’t coming in until the evening shift.”

Melissa looked worried as she watched him intensely. “Its about 8pm Stiles. I just found out you were here.”

Stiles looked around, trying to get his mind thinking strait. He had been asleep for a long time and at the hospital even longer. 

“Where’s my dad? Did he get called into work again? Can I go home soon? Scott can drive me or Derek maybe. I’m really fine.”

Melissa’s frown deepened before she moved right next to the bed, sitting the empty chair there and grabbing his unbroken hand tightly. 

“Stiles, I need you to be completely honesty with me right now. No lies and no deflecting.”

Stiles felt a flutter of fear. That was never a good way to start a conversation. He nodded, watching the woman who had nearly raised him look at him in fear and maybe a hint of panic. 

“Where did you get those bruises?”

Stiles let out a breath and relaxed. She knew about werewolves. He could tell her the truth. 

“Scott told you what happened right? Gerard grabbed me after the game. He beat me up a little, gave me most of them, then let me go. Then last night, Jackson did his whole come back from the dead routine. I may have driven through a wall to try to stop him from hurting anyone. He’s a wolf now by the way, and I think Gerard is maybe dead, so all in all a good day.”

He expected to see Melissa look relieved, maybe scold him a little for being stupid before sending him home to his comfortably bed with instructions to stay out of werewolf drama for a few weeks. 

She didn’t. 

“Did Gerard give you the bruises around your wrists Stiles? Scott said he didn’t remember seeing them.”

Scott wouldn’t have seen them if they had been there. He barely noticed Stiles during all of this, too worried about everything else, but Stiles wasn’t in a mood to be petty. He knew Scott had a lot on his plate right now. 

Stiles debated lying and blaming it all on Gerard, but he couldn’t quite make himself. Not when Melissa was looking worriedly right at him. 

“No, he didn’t.”

“Who gave them to you? Who broke your wrist?” Melissa looked like she was about to cry. Melissa never cried. She was tough through and through. “Stiles, was it your dad?”

Stiles was too shocked to speak. The blood pulsed in his ears and suddenly he was furious. He jerked his hand away from her.

“My dad would never hit me. You know that Melissa. You know that. He never even spanked me. Never. You should be ashamed to even think that.”

A tear rolled down her face, but her expression was determined.

“Someone hurt you Stiles. Its written all over your body. I can help. Please, tell me who hit you.”

It was all too much. He was overwhelmed and tired. He hurt and he wanted his dad. It was too much. He shattered.

“Derek! Derek did. Last night after I got home. He didn’t mean to. He thought he was helping me.” Stiles voice cracked like he was thirteen again. 

Melissa covered her mouth with her hand, looking absolutely horrified. Stiles face burned and he buried it in his hands, too ashamed to look at her anymore. She would hate him too, hate him for what they had done. 

“It’s my fault.” Stiles was crying now. “I never should have let it get that far.”

Melissa stood up and pulled him against her slim body and stoked his hair while he sobbed. 

“Stiles it wasn’t your fault. No matter what you did or said, you don’t deserve to be hurt for it. By anyone.”

No, that wasn’t right. He did deserve it. His mother said he did. Derek wouldn’t punish him, so he had been forced to do it himself. 

“I have to know Stiles. I’m so sorry. I have to ask.” Her voice was soft, like that would keep the words from splitting him open from the inside out. “Did he rape you?” 

“No!” Stiles wailed. “No you don’t understand. He didn’t hurt me. He was perfect. I wanted it too. Then after, I panicked, and he tried to stop me from hurting myself. He wouldn’t let me punish myself. He didn’t know how hard I would fight.”

Melissa was shaking as she held him even tighter. She murmured over quietly to herself, not the teenage boy breaking down in her arms. 

“Oh my God.” It sounded like a prayer. “Oh God.” 

Melissa held him until he stopped crying and then helped him lay back on the bed. He was too tired to move even to clean himself off. Melissa wiped the snot off his face in a professional manner but somehow it made him feel even worse. 

“Can you please get my dad so I can go home?” Stiles was too tired for anything else. He just wanted to go home and forget any of this had happened. Any of it.

Melissa looked worn-out too. Stiles couldn’t image what had been running through her head, thinking he dad had hurt him, thinking that Derek had hurt him. She took a deep breath and Stiles' world came crashing down.

“DCFS is here and talking to your father. They won’t let him back in to see you.”

“What? Why?” Stiles sat up yet again, horrified. 

“Susan saw the bruises on your wrist. They look like hand prints. Adult hands. Couple that with your medical history of broken bones and your reluctance to talk about how they happened; it looked bad.”

“But he’s the Sheriff. That has to be enough to stop the investigation in its tracks. They have to believe him.”

Melissa grimaced. “Not with the way he was acting with Susan. She accused him, very unprofessionally I might add, after they took you away and he blew up on her. She thought she was the first one to catch it because he used his badge to keep everyone else quiet.”

“What’s going to happened then? Melissa, are they going to take me away from my dad?” 

Stiles was strait-up panicking yet again. The room began to blur as his breathing speed up. His mind was spinning, and he couldn’t focus on anything but bad, bad, bad.

This was bad, this was so bad. He was going to be separated from his dad, from his only family. Just because he wanted to get his dick wet and couldn’t handle it.

It was a good reason to panic. 

“Breathe.” Melissa sounded calm. Why was she so calm?

“Stiles, I need you to breathe with me. In and out.” Stiles obeyed and gasped a breath, then another. 

“Again. Good. Try to relax. Breathe.”

He breathed and he forced himself to relax until he could finally see the features of the nurse’s face, instead of just a blur. 

“Here is what is happening right now. Right now, your dad is being interviewed. Officer Higgins is currently bringing over the file that shows you were missing. It also will say that kids from the other team beat you up and catalog your injuries from them. That will explain most of your current wounds. I’ve already given DCFS your medical paperwork that shows your older injuries and how you got them is well documented. Several of the other nurses are willing to witness that you were just a very clumsy child. It’s a good start.”

Stiles nodded. “I bet Flintstock would testify too. He knows how I am.”

Melissa continued.

“They will interview you next. Stick to whatever story you told Susan, but, and this important, Scott was with you in the car. You all were worried about Jackson. You went out for a drive, to clear your head, to get food whatever, but on the way back you hit the deer. Scott grabbed your arm when you hit the deer. You didn’t notice because your other wrist hurt so bad. That’s what gave you the bruise. It’s going to be alright. I promise, no one is taking you away.”

Stiles nodded again. He felt better knowing they had a plan. He could work with a plan. 

“I have to get back to work. I’ll be around as much as I can.”

She was nearly out of the room when she turned back around, looking every bit of the mom she was. 

“And after all of this gets settled, we are going to have a long talk about how bad your panic attacks have gotten. And if you’re hurting yourself during these attacks, we will be adjusting your meds. I never want to see you in this position again.”  
\------  
The DCFS interview was stressful. Stiles was twitchy and loud as he tried to get his story out, rambling and gesturing with the unbroken arm. He wasn’t sure if he even made sense. 

The lady was nice though and she listened when Stiles tried explained what had happened, how the bruises were because of Scott and that his dad was amazing and would never hurt him. Ever. Stiles explanations turned to mostly sobs as he got desperate to make her understand. 

The lady handed him a tissue. God, he had cried so much lately. 

“I swear my dad would never hurt me. Never. We’re all we have now. Please. You have to believe me.”

The lady smiled kindly before patting him on the head like he was a child.

“Someone will be back in to sit with you soon.” She left without answering if she believed him. 

She even seemed like she did. Stiles really hopped she did. He just wanted to see his dad. He wanted to go home. 

Melissa came in after about an hour with a tray of food and more pain pills. Stiles hadn’t eaten all day. They had been in too much of a rush in the morning and he hadn’t thought of it since.

He managed a few bites of Jell-O before he pushed the tray away.

He wished he had his phone. He needed to text Scott about what was going on, or anyone really. He really needed a friend right now. Hell, even Derek creeping in uninvited would be great. A werewolf could eavesdrop on the interviews DCFS was doing.

Maybe he should ask for the bite. It would solve a lot of the problems going on right now. If he was a werewolf, they wouldn’t even be here because he wouldn’t be hurt. 

He was going crazy by himself. 

Stiles was on the verge of sneaking into the hall to call Scott on one of the nurse’s phones when his dad came in. 

“Dad.”

John looked awful, tired and worn with a scruffy beard starting. He hadn’t had time to shave in days. 

John didn’t stop. He just walked to the bed and wrapped Stiles up in the kind of hug that had always made him feel safe.

“I’m so sorry.” Stiles’ voice was muffled from being pressed into his father’s shoulder, but he knew the man could hear. “Are they taking me away?”

“No.” The word sounded fuzzy and John cleared his throat. “No. DCFS is not continuing the investigate and the allegations have all been dropped. I’m pissed at you for not telling me that Scott was in the car with you, but he explained it all how you didn’t want to get him in trouble with Melissa since he wasn’t supposed to be out.”

“Scott was here?” 

“Yeah, Melissa called him. He talked to DCFS too. Along with Melissa and about four other nurses. You sure know how to make an impression.”

“Oh.”

“He didn’t come by?”

Stiles shook away the thought that Scott was ashamed of him too. “I might have been sleeping. He probably didn’t want to wake me.”

John finally let go of his son and looked down at the white tile floor before meeting his son’s eyes. “Just,” he took a deep breath and seemed to think better of what he was about to say. “Just no more lying to me son. I can’t help you if you don’t tell me the truth.”

“Yeah.”

“I mean it son. Whatever you are going through, I’m here for you.”

Stiles really wanted to believe him. He really did.  
\------

It was late by the time they got home. Stiles had been prescribed some decent pain pill and he took one in the car. They worked very well. He didn’t hurt at all anymore, but his dad had to help him upstairs and into bed. His dad left the door open before going to his own room.

Stiles half expected to be woken up by a werewolf at some point during the night, but slept deeply, the whole night through. He woke up for a moment and groaned with the realization that it was Monday and he need to get ready for school when his dad popped his head in. 

“Go back to sleep. You’re not going to school and I took a few days off work. God knows we both need it. I’ll bring you some breakfast.” Stiles dropped right back off. 

The next couple days were blurry. He woke up when he dad roused him for pain pills or food that he barely picked at. He checked his phone occasionally. Derek had texted as promised the day before, but Stiles never responded. He didn’t want to.

He took a shower that afternoon and changed clothes to make his dad stop nagging but other than that, he just slept all day. 

He had two panic attacks. One was triggered by a branch falling outside and scaring him. The other happened when he woke from a nightmare. John talked him down from both. After the second one on Tuesday morning, he made Stiles go downstairs on the couch where he could keep a better eye on him while he caught up on paperwork. 

None of the wolves stopped by, not even Scott. Stiles didn’t want to know why. He didn’t want to know if Derek told them how fucked up he was or if they just finally figured it out on their own. 

Lydia did come to bring him his homework on Tuesday, her gaze lingering a little too long on his bruised face. He was glad his dad made him take a shower after all and tried to smile at her. 

She didn’t really say anything important. Just that they all missed him and hoped he was back in school soon. She looked better, happier. Stiles was glad it all worked out for her. She dropped his books beside him. 

“Don’t fall behind Stilinski. Without you there, no one even comes close to being competition.” Lydia swept off leaving behind the smell of Chanel. 

Stiles didn’t really care about his school work. It didn’t seem important to do when his dreams were filled with burning rivers of hellfire. No matter how much he told himself they were just dreams, he couldn’t shake the thought that it was a vision of what was to come. 

He went back to sleep.

On Wednesday his dad took him back to the hospital to remove the splint and put on a cast, now that the swelling had gone down. 

Stiles never liked the hospital, but after the events of the weekend, just being in the room waiting on the doctor was enough to make his pulse race. His dad’s hand cupped the back of his neck and Stiles tapped his foot and dug his nails into his hand. 

He breathed deeply and did not panic. He didn’t.

The cast didn’t take long. The doctor offered let his dad stay, but he stepped out to say hi and thank you to the nurses while it was finished drying. He took a long time. Long enough that the doctor released him, and Stiles went looking for his dad, feeling better than he had all week. 

He found him in a corner of a quiet waiting room, talking to Melissa. Stiles was about to barge in and tease him about getting lost, when his dad leaned in and laid his head on her shoulder. 

That was unexpected. He and Scott joked about it, but maybe something was going on with the two of them. Stiles ducked around the corner, close enough to hear but not be seen. 

“I’m just worried Mel. He just sleeps all the time. When he’s awake, he doesn’t’ care about anything. He doesn’t joke or bug me about what I’m eating. We’ve had burgers the last three days and he didn’t even notice.”

Melissa rubbed his back comfortingly. “People deal with trauma differently. He got beat up, then almost taken away by DCFS. Losing you has always been his biggest fear. It’s going to take a while.”

“Melissa, he has had a panic attack every day. He almost had one here just waiting on the doctor.”

“We may need to adjust his meds for a while. Maybe less Adderall would help, or maybe get him back on some antidepressants. I’ll try to get him in with his psychiatrist later this week.”

“Whatever it takes Mel. I have to get my son back.”

His dad sounded broken. Stiles hated that it was his fault. 

It didn’t matter what he and Derek had done. It didn’t matter if he was going to hell or not. It was affecting his dad and his dad’s health. He couldn’t let that happened.  
\------  
Stiles forced himself back into his routine. That night, he made his dad eat a turkey burger, then worked on the last few days homework while talking non-stop about the dangers of fast food. He made his dad go to bed at a reasonable hour instead of working on paperwork all night. 

He got up and caught the bus to school, since his jeep was still pretty banged up. He called the auto shop on the way and made an appointment to get it fixed. 

He greeted Scott with appropriated enthusiasm, clapping him on the back and asking what he missed. Scott looked surprised at first, but soon was filling him in on how Jackson and Lydia were back together, no surprise, and they were both going to be pack.

“Now there will be another human for you to hang with, because Lydia absolutely does not want the bite. Well, besides Allison, but she isn’t exactly pack.”

Then Scott was on an Allison rant that Stiles personally knew could go all day. He let the wolf prattle on and on. Stiles zoned out, comforted by the familiar rambling. 

It wasn’t until lunch, where Isaac apparently sat with them now, that Scott finally mentioned “Hey have you seen Derek lately? He’s been like super grumpy, like more than usual. It’s weird, man. We won, I thought he would be happy.”

Stiles choked on his milk then spat it all over the table. Isaac glared and moved his tray away from the mess. “No,” he said “I have not.”

It was easy to get back in the grove. Jackson and Lydia were busy being a new cute couple again. Scott and, in a twist that Stiles did not see coming, Isaac were both busy watching Allison from a not so subtle distance. It was simple for Stiles to stick to his sarcastic comments and random rants. None one knew that he was always about half a second from freaking out and losing fucking his mind.

Even his dad didn’t know. He was back to working crazy long hours and seemed happy when Stiles insisted his meds were fine and he didn’t need to go back to the doctor. Stiles made an effort to cook healthy suppers more often and he dad tried to be home to eat them.

It wasn’t how it used to be before all the werewolf nonsense, but it was better than it had been. His dad didn’t constantly look at him with disappointment in his eyes, so yeah, it was way better. 

And faking it worked. Mostly of the time, Stiles really felt fine. Mostly fine at least. Honestly, the only time Stiles felt bad was the nights his dad worked, and Scott wouldn’t answer his phone. He was alone in the dark and his thoughts tended to spiral. But he was careful not to let it get so far that he hurt himself. Instead, he just let himself hyperventilate and pass out on the bed. It sucked, but it worked.

The only real change was Stiles now actively avoided pack meetings, for fun or business. He claimed it was because he just couldn’t get alone with Jackson now that the teen was all furry, even though the jerk had dropped the restraining order and was almost decent now.

Stiles still helped with research though, and planning when needed. He helped Lydia deal with the fact that her boyfriend now turned into a terrible rage monster once a month. He gave equally bad advice to Scott and Isaac over how to win over Allison. The only thing he didn’t do was join the others at the loft. He wasn’t ready. He didn’t know if he ever would be. 

Stiles got his cast off quickly and his bruises healed. He brought Melissa a pie, just to say thanks. Store bought, but it was the thought that counted. 

Avoidance worked well, as it always did. The others didn’t seem to really care if he didn’t go to the loft or not. He thought Lydia might have suspicions that more was going on when Stiles went red and sputtered when she accused him wanting her to be the only human in the loft after the third time he skipped out. But she didn’t push and he didn’t offer anything up.

Stiles really though he might get away with his ploy indefinitely. What he didn’t take into consideration was how damn small of a town Beacon Hills could be. 

He was filling up his jeep at the local gas station one evening about two months after the incident, as he had taken to calling it, when he heard the distinctive purr of the Camaro. 

Stiles thought about driving away, but he dad would kill him he if he drove off without paying, plus, he had just started filling up and wasn’t confident he would even make it around the block without running out of gas.

Stiles ducked his head, hoping Derek wouldn’t see him. Not like he was standing beside a distinctive blue jeep and was literally the only car there or anything.

The car pulled into the pump across from him before turning off. Derek stepped out, still wearing leather and frowning his grouchy frown. 

“Stiles.” 

He sighted internally, because, you know, werewolf hearing, and looked up.

“Derek.” He gave a little wave, one hand still on the pump as if it would fill faster that way. 

Derek began filling up his own car, using his card to pay at the pump. 

“You got your cast off.”

“Yeah.” Stiles flexed his hand just because he could. “Yeah, like two weeks ago. Good as new.”

“Good.”

Stiles pump clicked off. He put the hose up and when inside to pay. When he came out, Derek was waiting beside his driver’s side door.

“Well, nice to see you as always Derek.” Stiles slid past him to open the door. 

Derek was kind enough not to use his werewolf strength to keep the teen from opening the door but caught the it and held so Stiles couldn’t drive away and escape this awkward situation. 

“You never come by anymore. Scott says your fine but Isaac says you smell frightened all the time. Lydia says its none of my business.”

“I just, I mean. It seems weird now. You know. I don’t feel like I should be at pack things right now.”

“Because of me.” Derek looked just a little hurt. Stiles didn’t know the wolf could look like that over something as stupid as Stiles. 

“Well technically because of me and my horrific broken brain. Although you were there for the whole thing, so you could in theory be included in the blame.”

Derek’s frown deepened. 

“I mean, I don’t blame you. Its not your fault I’m fucked up Derek.”

The wolf’s eyes flashed red. “You are not fucked up. There is nothing wrong with you Stiles.”

Stiles felt his heart jump. “Yeah, alright.”

Derek looked hurt again, he made a move like he was going to reach out and hold Stiles’ hand, but instead just let go of the door and stepped away.

“You avoiding me is affecting the pack. Scott doesn’t’ listen when you’re not there, Lydia and Jackson don’t show up half the time and when they do, everyone argues all whole night. If I pretend like nothing ever happened, will you come back?”

Derek looked up and met Stiles in the eyes. He looked vulnerable dressed in his slightly too big leather jacket, expression halfway hopeful, like a child looking for approval. 

“I would rather have you as a friend than nothing at all.”

God. That hurt. Stiles hadn’t thought that avoiding Derek would hurt him. He didn’t honestly think the wolf would really notice. 

“Yeah, yeah, of course. I’ll come to the next pack night. I’ll bring popcorn or chips or something.”

Derek smiled slightly, then larger, showing his teeth. “Bring lots. Jackson eats a ton.”

Stiles smiled back, thinking how fun it would be to throw chips at the new wolf until he snapped.

Derek started to walk back to his car, but only made it a step before turning back around.

“Stiles I want you to know that no matter how you are, gay, bi, straight, it doesn’t matter. No one who really loves you will care.”

Stiles tightened his jaw and looked at his hands on the wheel, determinedly not looking at the alpha. 

“I hope one day you’ll be okay with who you are.”

Derek drove off and Stiles didn’t move. 

He wanted to be okay with liking boys and girls. He wanted to kiss Derek without having a panic attack. He wanted not to hear his mother’s voice in his head. He wanted not to hate himself. 

He laid his forehead against the wheel and cried.  
\-------  
It took six years and going away to college.

It took things getting much much worse, before they began to get better.

It took a failed long-term relationship with a girl who was awful, borderline abusive, who made him feel complete alone and separate from his pack. From his family.

It took a mild breakdown that had him calling his dad crying at three am. It took his dad in an absolute panic as he sped to meet Stiles at college to get his son help.

That’s how long it took before he was okay.

Because that’s what it took for him to meet the one of the best therapists in California, who helped him deal with the trauma of his mother’s abuse. He learned how not to let the self-hate win. It took time, it took effort, but it worked. 

It was amazing the difference it made. He could just be him. He could look at the boys holding hands at his college without his stomach twisting and feeling guilty. He could kiss girls at parties and not hate himself for sinning, because if they both wanted it, it wasn’t wrong. 

Sometimes it still wasn’t enough, and the bad thoughts creeped in. But he knew now that whenever it happened, it was just a bad moment, not who he was. He was a good person, a free person who could make his own choices and not be judged for it.

The panic attacks faded, and he coped better in the rare events that they happened. He hadn’t hurt himself in years.

It was the summer before his senior year of college. He had talked to his therapist about it. He had talked to his dad about it. Hell, he had talked to Scott about it. They were all behind him in making this choice. Because it was his choice.

And Derek’s too. 

“Hey, Derek?”

They were sitting around the loft, lounging on the couch. Scott, Allison, and Isaac were off getting pizza for the pack. Jackson and Lydia were upstairs doing dirty things, if Derek’s eyebrow’s and occasional winces were anything to go by. 

Derek didn’t look away from the movie. He just grunted. 

“Want to go out with me this Friday?”

Derek froze, then paused the movie before turning to face him. 

“Stiles, do you mean on a date?”

He looked so serious that Stiles couldn’t help but laugh. “Yes Derek. On a date. Dinner and a movie, the works.”

The wolf’s expression still didn’t change, and Stiles felt a jolt of fear.

“If you’re single that is. Which I'm pretty sure you are. Isaac said you are. And if you still like me, like me romantically, that is. Because I know you like me, I'm pack and whatnot. But,”

Derek smiled and it was like the sun had finally came out after a lifetime of rain. He nodded enthusiastically. Stiles melted. The wolf looked so happy but then suddenly his face fell and he got serious again. 

“Are you sure? It’s this really what you want?”

“You said some day you hoped I would be alright with who I am. I am now.”

“Good. I’m glad. I’m very glad.”

Derek turned the movie back on, once again smiling that smile that made Stiles want to sing. Stiles reached over and loosely grabbed Derek’s hand and Derek smiled just a little wider. 

It was exactly what he wanted.

**Author's Note:**

> I feel like I should add some clarification, for my peace of mind if nothing else
> 
> Not all religion is bad. There are lots of kind and accepting people who are religious. There are lots of churches that are very good places to raise kids. Some are not. The point of this wasn't to bash anyone or their beliefs, but to show how damaging only being shown one world view can be.
> 
> I did my best with writing the panic attacks. I wrote it how they are for me, that is to say, how they used to be for me. Don't worry, I have a much better grasp on them now. But, if reading about them is going to upset you, please don't read this. 
> 
> This was my first time writing smut. I had mixed feelings about doing it but it was important to the plot. I don't consider anything in this fic to be non-consensual. Just because Stiles has issues with sex, it doesn't mean Derek did anything wrong.
> 
> The age of consent is eighteen in California, a fact i didn't realize until I finished this. In my state, its seventeen. So, I wrote it with the idea that Derek and Stiles having sex was legal, even though Stiles was seventeen.
> 
> I like Derek in this, sorry if you don't. He was everything my partner, at the time, wasn't when I was going through my own issues.
> 
> This whole fic was very personal for me. Because sexuality isn't always clear, especially when you are young, and in many places, its hard to be who you are. In my town, it was better to be pregnant and unmarried at sixteen than to be gay. So, please, be kind in your reviews.


End file.
